Atomic Rebooted

4. Awakening

CLAIRE

The sun was already beginning to set when I left North Kingsbury High. I stopped to adjust the strap of my messenger bag. Despite Holly's warnings about shoulder pain when we went back-to-school shopping earlier that August, I'd insisted on my new favorite denim bag with the sunflowers printed on the side.

When I looked back up, I pulled out my phone.

Dad: I'm staying late and can't drive you. Sorry.

I texted back a quick response and put the phone back in one of the big pockets of my olive green military-style jacket. I tugged the holes in the wrists of my shirt over my thumbs. It was a lot colder than I'd expected.

Stupid Montana winters.

I then reluctantly hiked up the rickety stairs to the monorail station above the high school. Sure, I could have used the free elevator on the side of the apartment complex closest to the school, but I always felt bad when I did that. Mom trained it into me when I was a little kid, that taking the elevator meant that I was taking the spot someone else needed more.

Besides, ever since I'd gotten into esports, I needed all the extra steps I could get. Not that I'd ballooned in size or anything— I also wasn't a heavy eater either and I had to be reminded to do both things.

Still, it was nice to get up and under the awning of the monorail station and out of the wind. There were space heaters next to the benches, and the lights were already turning on in anticipation of the twilight. I checked the times posted to the side of the office— there was another tram coming in five minutes.

Satisfied with that, I sat down on the bench and pulled my smaller purse out of my messenger bag. Inside the Pikachu print purse was my wallet, my monorail pass, and a few other odds and ends that were useful in an emergency, especially for a girl.

I put the rest of it away, tucking said bus pass in my pocket, nestled next to my phone. I checked my watch— four minutes left until the tram would come by.

I did little curls and stretches with my thumbs— I'd had sore fingers after esports practice too many times to neglect the stretching.

New Kingsbury was modern in every sense of the word, and that included how we got our kicks. The esports league was admittedly a far more recent addition, the first year of it taking place during my freshman year.

Now that it was my senior year, it was time for glory and scholarships, and as far as I was concerned, nothing was going to get in my way.

We'd just been practicing on a new game, Mage Sword. It had only just been added to the list of appropriate games for the league, and was definitely a favorite of mine. It was more fantasy-oriented than most games in the esports league, but it had an amazing combat system and the multiplayer servers ran like a dream on even really crappy rigs.

Most of our session we spent trying out new character combos to see who suited us and our positions best. I was known on our team for being a really good offense player, and it took a while to find one that worked for me.

But I loved that in video games, I could take on that role of a go-getter, a leader— everything I wasn't in real life. In esports, I was becoming incredibly visible. But unlike real life, I was actually comfortable with that, there.

I was sure Dad was, too, because of the possible scholarships and career on the table.

My thoughts were interrupted by the beeping tones that informed the station that the tram was about to pull in. I reached in my pocket, feeling to make sure that the tram pass and my phone were still there. Yep.

In those four minutes since I'd arrived and the tram came, the platform had filled up. The evening rush home was now in session. A small crowd of people flowed out of the tram and into the adjacent apartment building, while I followed a slightly bigger herd into the tram cars.

I held onto one of the poles in the center, as I didn't need any of the seats lining the walls.

I put in my earbuds and turned on my favorite playlist—- the same 70s rock my dad liked to listen to when he was a kid. The beautiful guitar riffs of Crosby, Stills, and Nash filled my ears as the tram took off. The city, lit in orange and indigo with the setting sun and offset with glittering lights all blended together as I focused on the poetic lyrics.

Dad used to pause it and ask what I thought a phrase or lyric meant, whether we were dancing alone in our living room or in the car on the way to school, work, or vacations. As a result, I had a sharp ear for words and a keen appreciation of all the beautiful ways they could be used. I resisted the urge to hum along as we made our way through the city.

I closed my eyes, leaning my head against the pole for just a moment, feeling the rhythm of the city.

That was my first mistake.

I hit my head hard against the pole as the tram jolted to a stop.

"Watch your head, there, kiddo," an older man muttered who was also holding on to the same pole.

"Why are we stopped?"

"What's going on?"

"This isn't our stop!"

Mumbles filled the tram car. An elderly woman who was sitting on the side glanced out the nearest window to her and gasped.

"The track is gone!" She declared in a wail.

Others rushed to the windows. I held onto the pole like it was a security blanket. Why would a part of the tracks be missing?

The answer came all too quickly.

There was a rumbling sound below our feet first. Then the feeling of free fall— the line had gone out completely beneath the monorail.

I tried to hold onto the pole, but I was never physically very strong. The muscles in my fingers were screaming. I gritted my teeth, trying to get some kind of purchase or something by kicking wildly— but it wasn't enough.

I couldn't hold on any longer.

I plummeted into the pile of bodies, kicking and screaming and trying to escape the metal death box the tram became. Somehow I tumbled through and onto the pavement, where the windshield of the tram broke open.

I was flat on my back, out of breath completely as I watched the avalanche of bottle-necked bodies coming for me.

Even though it was futile, I threw my hands out in front of me, as if it would somehow stop the death looming over my head. I screwed my eyes shut, as the seconds of my life turned to hours of dreadful anticipation.

That's when I opened my eyes and saw that about half of the tram was lifted a few inches off the ground, the momentum of the falling passengers stopped for a moment, even as the rest of the tram was being dragged down with the weight of the first car.

It took everything I had to roll my body out from under the width of tram, the other half of the front of the tram rushing to kiss the pavement with the rest of it.

I felt the metal falling behind me, nearly grazing my elbow as I managed to get out of the way as the tram dipped down again.

Sirens wailed around me, blending in with the screams as I realized that I had just developed superpowers.